Aftershocks
by Vherstinae
Summary: Alternate continuity after "So the Drama." Kim and Ron are in a relationship, Drakken and Shego are beaten. God is in his heaven, all is right with the world, right? Not so much...
1. Silence

Welcome, fair readers, to another new tale. For those wondering when Jump Start and A True Hero is Born will be updated, I can't say for sure, but I haven't forgotten about them. What work I do have for them is fragmented and unpolished, and I don't want to release incomplete and futzy chapters. This particular plot bunny has surfaced more than once, but this is the first time I've committed it to writing. Hopefully it'll prove entertaining.

This story takes place after So the Drama, and touches on some Season 4 episodes but not all of them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, nor any other products/topics I may address. Any original characters I may introduce are my property, though. As usual, this is the first and only time I will post this disclaimer, and you can consider it continual throughout the story unless through some bizarre event I come into possession of Kim Possible.

**Chapter One:**

**Silence**

Kim Possible was many things. She was a cheerleader, an honor student, a martial artist, a gorgeous redhead, a charity volunteer, and she was widely regarded as a superhero. She would now add ecstatic to the list of nouns and adjectives regarding herself. She had finally seen what had been right in front of her for several years, at least: Ron Stoppable.

The blonde, freckled, frequently terrified boy was her first and only best friend, and her companion on missions. In all honesty, she'd never questioned the fact that he accompanied her on these adventures in which he was always facing one of his worst fears and often coming within a hair's breadth of death and/or dismemberment every few minutes. Last night, she had finally figured out why: he was madly in love with her, and she discovered that she harbored similar feelings for him.

It had only been one day since the international cataclysm known as "The Lil' Diablos Incident," but such things were far from Kim's mind. Instead, as she got ready for bed, she recounted the day that she had shared with her new boyfriend. They had gotten ice cream, seen a movie, and cuddled under a tree beside the new pond formed by a Diablo's plasma cannon.

As Kim slid into bed and flicked off her nightstand lamp, she thought about how her life couldn't possibly get any better, from her perspective.

— — — — —

The electric hum of the fluorescent lights melded in with the like rumble of the dialysis machine. Along with the periodic beep of the electrocardiogram and the rhythmic hiss of the respirator, the noises made a sort of mad scientist's symphony. Indeed, this may have been the best term, as a mad scientist sat beside the bed, heavy blue bags beneath his bloodshot eyes. He would have taken pride in such daring robberies – one even from the hospital where Kim Possible's mother worked – but his fear and misery wouldn't allow for a positive emotion just yet. In the bed lay one of his most precious people, someone whom he considered to be family even though she could be very, very mean sometimes.

Drakken stood up, cracking his back and stretching out his shoulders. The M.D. had warned him that he'd burn himself out at this rate, but he didn't care. Shego was suffering, and he couldn't just leave her alone. Crime rates had fallen all over the world at the news; despite her acerbic nature, Shego was beloved by much of the villainous community, and they had decided to take this day off out of deference to the tragic event.

Drakken sat back down, speaking softly to Shego. He didn't know if semi-comatose people could understand speech, but it was probably doing her some good. After all, if plants grew from being talked to, couldn't it work for people, especially green people? "Well, I confirmed that we do indeed have the footage from the base, Shego. We can start a smear campaign against Kim Possible when you get yourself fixed." He rested his hand on her fingertips, careful not to touch her burned skin. "Get better soon, Shego. It's so lonely without you there to give life to this place…" Drakken choked back some tears. He might be a villain, but this was just cruelty! Part of him wondered if the teen even knew what she'd done using that suit's super-strength.

The villainous M.D. entered the room. "Alright, Dr. Drakken, I need you to leave. I have to give Shego a full physical to make sure that her regenerative powers aren't reacting with her electrical burns."

Drakken was reluctant to leave, but he kissed the tip of Shego's finger and turned to leave. "Make sure she gets better, Doc."

— — — — —

Anne Possible was concerned.

Unlike her husband, who was designing a very detailed diagram of how he would jettison Ron into a black hole if he hurt Kim, Anne was not focused on the boy. He was a good person, and wouldn't dare hurt her Kimmie. What concerned the brain surgeon was her own daughter. Kim's mood swing, from love to despair to love, was far too extreme. It couldn't be good for anyone, but Kim took far more onto her shoulders than the average person, so a mood see-saw like that could potentially be disastrous for her.

What worried Anne more than that was how wholly Kim had thrown herself into her newfound relationship. Perhaps it was true love, but even then her daughter was far too obsessive over Ron considering how they had only become boyfriend/girlfriend the night before. Kim was suppressing something, focusing on the positive in her life to hide whatever negative was nagging at her.

Anne would make sure that she and James were there for their daughter, and tomorrow morning she would attempt to coax Kim into revealing what was tormenting her.

— — — — —

Drakken hadn't been the only one to recover the central lair's security footage. Local police, government agencies, and Global Justice had made copies for their own records, all for their own purposes. The police had taken it for evidence in a case that they now could not prosecute because Drakken had, surprisingly enough, put into place a contingency plan in case of his capture, and he and his henchwoman Shego were home free before they could even be brought back to the police station. The FBI and CIA had acquired copies to better analyze the fighting styles and psychological profiles of the heroes and villains. Global Justice, however, had absolutely no interest in Ron Stoppable, Drakken, or Shego: after certain events had come to their attention, they were reevaluating Kim Possible's status, determining if she was a threat.

One more person had attained a copy, burning it to a thumb drive straight out of One Police Plaza in Denver. Sitting cross-legged on a relatively comfortable hotel bed, he watched the footage play out on his laptop. The Shinola was going to slam hard against the fan and begin splattering all over the room, and perhaps he could eke some benefit from it.


	2. Suffer

**Chapter Two:**

**Suffer**

The fight was over; Kim and Ron had won once again, and Drakken's most ambitious plan had come to a spectacularly pathetic conclusion, just as Shego had figured it would. She could commend Drakken for playing things so close to the vest and being secretive, but he could have done certain things far better, particularly the whole synthodrone debacle. If he'd let her in on it, she could have given him advice; after all, despite her rage and glowing powers, she was indeed female and had a better understanding of the female brain than her employer.

As rain poured down on the broken lair, Shego began to slink out, trying to get away quietly. Drakken had breached their unspoken agreement by not trusting her to help, so she'd get away and let him rot in prison for a few weeks. That insipid blue glow caught her eye as Kimmie stepped out of the shadows to confront her. "You know what I really hate?" the teen asked in a sickly sweet voice. Shego didn't really care; she just wanted to avoid a fight. She was pretty sure something was broken, and wanted to get away before she suffered any more injuries. "Uh, that your boyfriend melted?" she offered sardonically. "No," Kim replied, her lips splitting into a slasher smile, "you." Lunging forward, Kim put all of the battlesuit's force into one vicious side kick, throwing all of her negligible weight behind the blow.

If the air hadn't been forced from her lungs, Shego would have screamed as her ribs shattered. She found the voice to scream as she impacted the transmission tower, thousands of volts surging through her body. Any normal person would have been killed several times over, but her spasmodic plasma discharge helped to soften the blow and melt the circuits before she could be fried further.

Kim stood smiling at the carnage, feeling that she'd finally gotten her vengeance. For whatever reason, she blamed Shego for all of her pain, not Drakken. Dusting herself off and letting the rain carry away whatever else hadn't been brushed away, Kim headed back to Middleton High to attend her prom.

Shego had been conscious through it all. Her determination to cling to life, her powers, her regenerative abilities, and her rage all helped to keep her awake as purest pain flowed like blood through her veins. Now, as she looked at her charred catsuit, melted onto her battered and seared body, her vision began to fade. _No,_ she insisted, _I will not fall unconscious. I will stay awake. I will live. I won't be beaten, not like this._ Her body ignored her orders, and her eyelids fell shut like heavy blast doors. Blackness enveloped her.

— — — — —

A spark of green pierced the darkness. The tiny spark, little more than a pilot light, seemed to feed on an unseen fuel, and began to grow. Along with the roar of verdant flame, a primal scream echoed through the darkness, rising in volume to become deafening, like the howl of a jet engine.

Beside her bed, the recently acquired EEG monitor began to beep. For the first time in more than 48 hours, Shego was dreaming.

— — — — —

Kim's eyes snapped open as she let out a startled squeak. The alarm was buzzing. She reached over and slapped her clock, switching off the obnoxious sound, and blinked at the time. For the past three years, she had always woken up at 5:58, beating her alarm by two minutes. Not only that, but she was completely exhausted. Kim's eyes threatened to fall shut almost immediately after she opened them.

Kim tumbled out of bed, barely dragging herself to a standing position as she halfheartedly gathered up her clothes and ambled to the shower, where she kept the water heat significantly lower than usual in an attempt to wake herself up. She succeeded, but now she faced a perpetual adrenaline high. It was as though any stimulus at all sent her into full fight-or-flight mode. She shook off the questions that this raised, inadvertently slapping herself in the face with her long red hair.

Once her shower was over, Kim toweled off, got dressed, and staggered downstairs. "Hi mom, dad," she said listlessly. Both of her parents looked up at her, immediately concerned. "Kimmie-cub," her father said as he stared at her pale face and baggy eyes, "are you okay? You don't look well."

Kim shrugged. "Didn't sleep well," she mumbled as she grabbed some orange juice and sugary cereal, and poured a cup of coffee for the road. Her head nearly sagged into the bowl, her fiery hair forming a curtain around the bowl reminiscent of an old-time circular shower.

"Kimberly Anne…" her mother said to get her attention. Using her middle name always called to attention that the topic was serious. Using her last name as well signaled that things were about to get real. "Did you have bad dreams? I'm worried about you after what happened with Eric and those horrible devil-things."

Kim bristled at the mention of Eric, but she was too tired to fully react; it was more of a toothbrush-bristle instead. "Didn't dream," she mumbled. Anne scrutinized what she could see of her daughter through the wall of hair. "Well, if you're having trouble sleeping or are feeling tense, maybe you'd like to talk with somebody about it, professionally? I know a sleep therapist at the hospital who might be able to help." Of course, the surgeon was shortening her coworker's title: he was actually a sleep specialist and licensed psychotherapist, but what Kim didn't know wouldn't discourage her.

Kim nodded, some of her hair dipping into her cereal. "Might do that. Gonna go see Ron today, though. We're going to the mall," she murmured. And with that, she knocked back the entire cup of coffee and staggered out of the house.

"Have fun," Anne called after her daughter, though her heart wasn't in it. She turned back to her husband. "James, something's troubling our daughter."

"Yes, I might have to put aside my black-hole probe schematics for now," James replied, concern heavy in his voice. He looked down to find his schematics missing. Now distracted from one problem by another, he leapt to his feet. "Boys!"

— — — — —

Ron lay sprawled on his messy bed beside his constant companion, an intelligent naked mole rat. "Rufus, old buddy, life's looking up for the Ron-man. I'm gonna be a senior this year, I actually got to be a hero for real's this time, and I'm dating the most wonderful girl in the world."

"Mm-hm, mm-hm," Rufus nodded, making kissy noises. "Smoochin'!"

Their discussion was interrupted by the doorbell. "I'll get that, pal. You see if you can find where that naco smell's coming from," Ron said as he stood up. Rufus gulped as he looked at Ron's warzone of a room and all the crevices where old food could be hiding.

The blonde opened the door to find his girlfriend teetering on the doorstep. "KP! Are you alright? You don't look so hot," he commented as he looked at her withered complexion. Kim leaned forward, falling into his arms and kissing him as though she had all the energy in the world. "'m just tired. Le's go siddown…"

Ron half-led, half-carried Kim over to the sofa. He counted his blessings that his parents had gone off to some conference or other, and had decided that he could be trusted to maintain the house in their stead. As he sat down with her, she immediately crawled into his lap, straddling him as she kissed him furiously, pressing her lithe, muscular body against his. "K-KP, what's gotten into you? You look so tired, but–" Kim silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. "Ssshhh," she whispered, her eyes smoky and seductive, and apparently losing their bagginess. "I'm feeling better already."

He'd admit that Kim was acting a tad weird, but he had a beautiful girl in his lap demanding attention, so he'd worry about her condition after he'd helped cheer her up. Ron threw his arms around his girlfriend and pulled her flush against him, crushing his lips against hers.

— — — — —

Drakken was almost giddy. Actually, scratch that. He was indeed giddy, doing a little happy dance reminiscent of a deranged blue Snoopy. "Will you stop that?" the M.D. snapped. "It's distracting."

"But she's dreaming, doc," Drakken said as he moved into a bad Riverdance imitation. "That means that she's coming out of her coma, right?"

"Possibly, but she's still suffering from massive injuries and her body functions differently from yours and mine." The doctor took another look at the blue man. "Well, differently from mine, anyway. You're blue, so who knows. Anyway," he continued as he walked around Shego's bed, examining her various scanners and meters, "she is regenerating, but it's taking much longer than what is apparently normal for her. As far as I can tell, she came as close to death as one can get without actually dying, so her body is probably going to be in full shutdown mode until she's back up to speed, which could take who-knows how long."

"Can't we hurry it along?" Drakken asked impatiently.

"Possibly, but I really don't want to risk it. There's no telling how any drugs would react with her altered physiology, especially with her regenerative abilities firing on all metaphorical cylinders."

"So, we just wait?" the blue scientist asked. He received a nod in reply. "Well, poopy."

— — — — —

He laid out his outfit: slacks, black; dress shoes, black; dress socks, black; silk shirt, black; suit coat, black; leather gloves, black; reinforced mask, black. He wasn't very well-known yet, or really known at all, so he figured he could get away with flying standard villain air and not worry about people asking too many questions.

He'd drawn up his overarching plan, committed it to memory, and then burned the papers and scattered the ashes. Step one was to ingratiate himself to a certain big-time villain. Step two, now that was the fun part.

He snapped shut his attaché case, the only accessory of his that was not black, stuffed his mask in his pocket for later use, and used his remote to check out of the hotel. It was slower but less stressful than dealing with the insipid concierge service, after all.


	3. Enquire

**Chapter Three:**

**Enquire**

Kim sat in the comfortable chair, trying not to be distracted by the static buzz of the device to which she was currently hooked up. Wearing something uncomfortably reminiscent of her early days of orthodontic assistance, she was attached by numerous wires to an odd-looking machine.

Across from her sat a smallish man with a shaved head (Kim could see the faint stubble ringing his scalp, and respected him for deciding to just go bald instead of pretending that the thin ring of hair around his head wouldn't make him look foolish) in an exquisitely tailored suit. His name was Dr. Klein, and he was her mother's sleep therapist friend. "Do you need me to run the procedure by you again?" he asked kindly.

Kim shook her head, smiling. She liked this little doctor, especially since this was supposedly a relatively new sort of treatment. Dr. Klein had explained to her that first he would ask her a battery of prepared and impromptu questions to get a map of her brain's individual impulses and reactions to familiar stimuli, and then they would watch her brain while she slept and see what similarities it bore to the interview. Of course, all of this was complete monkeybeets: Dr. Klein was in actuality a psychotherapist who specialized in analyzing and counseling those who had experienced severe trauma.

The doctor pulled out several small cards, starting to read from the top of the stack. "Alright, since we're analyzing familiar and extreme stimuli, how's your family life?"

Kim shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. My mom and dad could pay a little more attention, but they're both really busy. I want to kill the Tweebs – they're my brothers," she added at the doctor's questioning look, "most of the time, but I suppose that's what little siblings are for, right?"

"So, no real family feuds or divides?" the doctor prompted.

"Well," Kim said, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable, "my Nana has never approved of my going on missions and saving people. She worries about me, but it doesn't feel as much like caring as it does, um, judging. She looks down on me as if I'm incompetent, and it hurts, but it's not something that's gonna cause me to lose any sleep, especially since I came to terms with it, like, two years ago."

"Alright," Dr. Klein flipped to the next card, "now on to the next step: how's your relationship with your classmates? Uh, Ron, Bonnie, Josh, and – um, anybody else?" It was clear that he didn't have more than those names on his card.

Kim nodded, starting to enjoy the chance to vent. "Well, Ron's my boyfriend. I love him to death." "And this is a new development?" Dr. Klein interjected. "Yeah, it is," Kim continued. "we've been dating for less than a week, but really, we've been going out since we were about five. We've been friends for so long that we know pretty much everything about each other, so it's okay to move kinda fast since we're past the whole 'getting to know you' phase, y'know?"

"And this isn't causing you any undue stress? Maybe you feel the need to conform to his image of an ideal girlfriend or vice-versa?"

Kim scoffed. "So not! That's kinda the reason why Ron and I work so well. We accept each other for what we are. I love him, obsessive fear of monkeys and millipedes and all. And he loves me even though I'm OCD about winning and kick the butts of much larger men on a regular basis."

"So, what about Bonnie? Your eyebrows knitted together – just like that! – the moment I mentioned her."

The redhead groaned her exasperation. "Pardon my French, but that girl is the single biggest bitch in the city! She's never satisfied with anything she has, and not only does she always think that she deserves more, but then she has to take every opportunity to make other people feel bad. I don't get how a girl with such a high opinion of herself can be so heinously insecure."

"So I take it none of this is a particularly new development," the doctor stated with a smirk.

"You got it," Kim smirked in return. "If Bonnie was gonna stress me to exhaustion, it would've been back in middle school, easy. I mean, she stresses me sometimes, but it's no big. I just remind myself that she has no future ahead of herself. Her family money will only get her so far, and it's nobody's fault but her own that she hasn't actually put any effort into learning." Kim blinked. "Wow, that sounded really vindictive, didn't it?"

Dr. Klein laughed softly. "We all have people like that in our lives, so you won't hear a reprimand from me. How about this Josh character?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "He was one of my biggest crushes, and an equally big mistake. Because he was such a quiet, self-interested loner who played music, I thought he was a misunderstood artist – a sort of teen Van Gogh, I guess. Turns out, he was just quiet because anybody who talked to him got bored or annoyed. He was a self-interested loner because he was a self-centered jerk." Kim shook her head, lightly slapping herself in the forehead. "God, was I stupid… Anyway, that's all said and done. I'm dating Ron now, and he makes me happier than I had ever fantasized about Josh doing."

The doctor held up a hand. "And by 'makes you happy'–"

Kim cut him off. "No, we haven't had sex. I'm still a virgin. I know you were about to ask me that."

"Alright then, I think one last round of questions will wrap this up." "Bring it on," Kim grinned. "You sure? Very well. I'll just let you start talking after I say these three names: Eric, Drakken and Shego."

Kim's expression darkened dangerously. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We can't get a full mental profile without it. We won't be able to finish the study."

The teen shook her head. "I don't care. I don't want to talk about it."

Dr. Klein nodded. "Alright, then thank you for your time. You can take off the halo and leave. I've got to recalibrate the monitor."

Kim walked out without another word.

— — — — —

Elsewhere, another doctor pointed out shapes and colors to his fellows. "If you'll look here," he gestured with his pen because he didn't want his rather sausage-like finger getting in the way, "you'll see that her dreams are stimulating her medulla oblongata, so whatever the subject of those dreams are, she's majorly pissed."

"And how is that different from any other day at the office?" Drakken asked nonchalantly. He'd gotten back a bit of pep after Shego had begun to dream.

"It's different, Drakken, because these are homicidal levels of aggression. Somebody this angry could kill off a small town and still not have burned off all their steam. I'd say that vengeance factors heavily into this as well, but it's mostly speculation at this point."

Drakken tapped a finger against his lip. "I'll bet she's dreaming about laying the smack down on Kim Possible."

"If she is, then she'll be completely inconsolable once she wakes. We'll need to restrain and sedate her until she's fully recovered, or she could get herself killed on her vendetta."

Drakken chewed his lip. Could Shego really have become this vengeful? He shook the thought away. He had no idea how much she had suffered from her ordeal. Perhaps her rage was justified. After all, she was always level-headed before, if a little grouchy…

— — — — —

"So, Alan, what's the verdict?" Anne Possible asked her colleague.

"Not good," Doctor Alan Klein responded. He rested the phone in the crook of his neck as he sorted out his notes on Anne's daughter. "She definitely has some form of mental trauma associated with the Lil' Diablo Incident. Problem is, she wouldn't tell me about it even to help fix her sleep problems."

Anne frowned. "That's not like her. If you don't mind speculating, what do you suppose is the problem?"

"Well – and don't take this as a diagnosis; it's a guess at best and a shot in the dark at worst – she seemed to react the most at the mention of Shego. Whatever she's suffering, it's definitely associated with that woman."

Anne shook her head, ignoring the fact that Klein couldn't see it. "But that makes no sense. It was all Drakken's plan; Shego wasn't even involved. Drew even bragged about that to Kim, and to James when he was taunting him about Project Hephaestus."

"I'm not going to speculate any further, because that might distort your view of things and you obviously know her better than I do, but I'd look into exactly what Kim's real beef with Shego is," Klein replied.

"Thanks for the help anyway, Alan. Do you need me to compensate you for the time?"

The therapist chuckled. "Nah, being allowed to psychoanalyze Kim Possible was good enough. So, I'll see you Wednesday?" Anne smiled into the phone. "Of course, Alan. I'll be there to support your latest mad scientist scheme."

— — — — —

A massive gong sounded through the lair.

After his head stopped ringing, Drakken stomped angrily to the front door. "Who switched the doorbell tone!" he shouted, tugging at his tiny ponytail. He pushed the intercom button. "Who is it?" Drakken asked in a sickly sweet tone while pulling up a security camera feed.

"I'm someone who can help you with a persistent problem," a smooth voice replied.

The camera feed showed a man in all black carrying a chrome attaché case. The man's most prominent feature was his mask. It was rather like a mouthless ski mask, but smooth instead of sporting corduroy lines. Dark red lenses were fitted into the eye holes, keeping the man's every feature hidden from view.

"Were you sent by a henching agency?" Drakken asked, presuming that the visitor was some sort of henchman looking to make a name for himself.

"No, no, nothing like that," the man smirked. Well, Drakken couldn't see him smirk, but his voice and body language made up for that. The man was being intentionally theatrical with his movements to make up for his face being hidden. "I'm freelance, but willing to offer my services at a discount. Look, this conversation could go on for a while, so I'll stop being obtuse: I'm here to help you take down Kim Possible, and I can do it for cheap."

Drakken was caught off-guard by the man's bluntness, and somewhat impressed. "Alright, come in, but be warned that you'll be watched every step of the way by armed guards. Uh, by the way, what do they call you?"

"They don't call me anything, because they don't know I exist. However, I call myself Paradigm, so you can call me that too."

Drakken buzzed him in.


	4. Trauma

**Chapter Four:**

**Trauma**

Kim set down her mug of coffee with more force than necessary, rattling the dining room table slightly. "That wasn't a sleep therapist," she said accusingly, trying to stare straight through the newspaper that her mother was reading.

"Actually, he is, but you're right, Kimberly Anne: I didn't send you to him for sleep therapy, but you wouldn't have spoken to him if I didn't tell you that was the reason." Anne Possible flipped to another page of the newspaper, following a story that interested her. "You visited him in the capacities of a psychotherapist, and since you actually cared to open up momentarily, he did actually manage to formulate a theory as to why you're not sleeping."

"This should be good," Kim rolled her eyes, feeling betrayed.

Ignoring her daughter's sarcastic comment, Anne continued as though she hadn't heard anything. "From your reactions, your trouble sleeping stems from your interactions with Shego."

Kim stiffened. "Stop treating me like I'm some science experiment to be dissected. I'm a human being! I'm your daughter, and you're treating me like one of your neurological case studies!" The cheerleader stood up from the table and stormed toward the front door. Anne reached after her. "Kimmie! Wait!" Her daughter turned to face Anne. "Don't 'Kimmie' me. I'm leaving until you can stop treating me like some sort of freak to be studied!" Kim swung open the front door and slammed it behind her.

Anne sighed, slumping against the table. Her little Kimmie was raging at the world, and wouldn't let her own mother help her. She stood up, heading over to her computer and opening an Internet call. "Hey, Wade," she smiled as the adolescent genius appeared on her screen.

— — — — —

He stood beside Shego's bed, gently stroking her luxuriant hair, which had almost completely grown back from the electrically singed mess it had been. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there," he whispered. "I should never have let you go, should I? Ah, but I couldn't deny you the experience." He smirked. "You always were cute enough to get your way, Pe–" The door opened, and he immediately moved his hand to her neck, pretending to check a watch that wasn't actually there, but he didn't expect much scrutiny. "Oh, hi Drakken. Just checking up on Shego to make sure she's not gonna keel over on us," he said casually.

Drakken eyed Paradigm suspiciously, wondering why he was in Shego's room, alone with her, with the door closed. "I think you've had enough time to get acclimated to the lair, Paradigm. Let's discuss what you can do for me," he said, turning to leave and gesturing for his guest to follow.

Paradigm brushed his fingers against Shego's forehead as he left, petting her protectively. His long strides let him catch up to Drakken with ease. "As I said when you first let me in, what I can do for you is remove Kim Possible from the equation. Price is negotiable, but I want creative control over how I do what I do."

Drakken pursed his lips contemplatively. "So, by 'remove her,' what precisely do you mean?"

"You mean, what do I plan to do to her?" Receiving a nod in reply, he continued. "Well, my first plan is just to beat her so thoroughly that it forever crushes any confidence she has of winning, hopefully traumatizing her into never doing the hero bit again. So, my second plan – the one that I predict will be necessary – is to beat her so thoroughly that it forever crushes _her_. Shatter her limbs and make her permanently incapable of fighting. For good measure, I'd do the same to her sidekick."

Drakken looked at the masked man with no small amount of skepticism. "And you really think you can do that," he said flatly.

Paradigm shrugged. "Payment tendered upon completion of services," he replied.

Drakken actually managed a smile. "Then what do I have to lose by hiring you? If you take down Kim Possible, then I win. If you don't, then I don't give up anything. I'll just check up on your file on the InTerrorNet…"

"Ah, I don't have a file," Paradigm corrected him. "I've made it my business to remain anonymous and work from the shadows, until now."

"And what changed now?"

"A villain nearly succeeded in taking over the world, and Possible stopped you, Clearly, she's enough of a threat to cut down world-domination plots, so she must be eliminated before I could even think of trying to take over the world myself. Getting paid for it is just a bonus."

Drakken nodded. "Well, I appreciate your candor, at least." Paradigm nodded. "I try, doc."

Little did the blue scientist know that the entire explanation was a bald-faced lie.

— — — — —

Ron Stoppable was confused. Scratch that, he was positively befuddled. Kim had burst in through his open bathroom window, barreling down the stairs and leaping into his lap before he'd even realized someone was in the house. Before he could freak, she began bawling and babbling out…something…in that crying-girl language where they breathe and sniffle between syllables so that their sentences become unintelligible.

After petting her hair and planting gentle kisses on her tear-streaked cheeks for nearly an hour, he was suddenly rewarded with a spontaneous make-out session that had nearly become something more.

To avoid doing something that Kim might come to regret after she calmed down, Ron proposed that they go to a nightclub that evening. This got Kim very excited, and she had immediately rushed out of his front door to sneak back into her house and get changed.

That was how she left him. Now Ron was trying to pick out good club attire while waiting for his girlfriend to return. After Ron picked out a nicely patterned bowling shirt and khakis, he heard the sound of Kim landing in his bathroom through the open window again.

"Hey there, loverboy," Kim practically purred as she stood in his doorway. Ron's jaw dropped. He'd never even thought that she would own an outfit like that: a loose-fitting but clingy top so shear that it would have been transparent if not for its shiny silver color, and tan pleather pants that appeared painted on. She smiled at his dumbfounded expression. "I take it you like?" she asked as she gestured at the way her body was presented. Kim sauntered up to him, pressing her body against his and trailing a finger down his chest. "I happen to like your outfit, as well," she smirked.

Finally managing to rid himself of his aphasia long enough to stammer out a fragmented sentence, Ron asked if she'd like to get going.

Kim nodded, placing a brief but lingering kiss on his lips before turning around and striding out, immediately drawing Ron's eye to the sway of her hips.

— — — — —

Although he felt guilty and a bit like a voyeur, Wade continued to listen in through a drone he'd managed to latch into Kim's hair when she came back to get her club outfit.

For once, he hadn't been convinced to do something he found dubious by the infamous "Puppy-dog Pout" used to great effect by the Possible women. Instead, he'd been convinced to do this by a concerned mother. The sincerity in Anne's voice when she had told him of her concerns regarding Kim had scared him more than the Lil' Diablos ever had. So now here he was, listening to Kim and Ron make lovey-dovey talk. Wade brought another of his computers out of Sleep to play a game until something interesting happened with the lovebirds.

— — — — —

It was no surprise that they'd gotten into the club, Kim looking as she did. She'd immediately dragged her boyfriend to the dance floor and began dancing in ways he hadn't known she could or would. She ground furiously against him, practically dry-humping him while they were still vertical. The throng of people surrounding them began to stare and cheer, not even recognizing that it was Kim Possible. They only saw a gorgeous redhead going to town on her dance partner.

After about a full minute of hesitation, Ron finally decided to let go of his self-consciousness and go with his instincts. He took her posterior in his hands and pulled her flush against him, causing her to squeak in surprise, and quickly muffled her with a kiss that threatened to devour her mouth. Kim melted into the kiss, beginning to forget her troubles as she let the delightful sensations flow through her body.

And then it felt like a freight train collided with the side of her skull.

— — — — —

He'd tracked them this far; it wasn't hard to track the Kimmunicator signal that had been piggybacking off of other wireless feeds. He actually hadn't expected to find that signal, as Kim's device usually operated off of military and GJ satellites, but apparently it didn't have the same amount of power tonight, so isolating the signal had simply been a case of "one of these things is not like the others."

Watching Kim go to town on her boyfriend made him smile in remembrance of happier times in his life. However, he'd come to do a job. He waited until the teens had gotten so into their kiss that they closed their eyes, and then propelled himself out of the shadows, swinging his steel-toed boot in a heavy roundhouse kick.

— — — — —

Kim slammed into the ground, but she felt no pain in her shoulder. The world spun around her as electrical static seemed to crackle within her head in place of actual sound. She began to sit up in time to see the man deliver a whip kick to Ron's neck, sending him crashing to the ground.

Spurring herself on, Kim leapt at the masked assailant, delivering a vicious aerial roundhouse of her own to his neck. His head snapped up, his red lenses meeting her olive orbs, before he grabbed onto her outstretched leg and spun her, slamming the teen hero into a nearby table.

Paradigm took a moment to let out a grunt of extreme pain as he rubbed his injured neck, and then got back into the fight. Kim was pretty much stunned as she saw what he just did: how could he completely ignore the pain enough to not even flinch? Her one consolation was that she had actually injured him, but would even breaking his legs stop him if he just put the pain on his to-do list?

Staggering to her feet, Kim grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at him. He immediately slapped it aside, kicking an overturned table to slam into her and then stepping on it, pressing her into the ground. This man hadn't even said a single word, but his purpose was clear: he intended to exterminate her.

Kim pushed as hard as she could against the table, but with the man's weight and strength pushing against her, and her inability to get any leverage, she couldn't upend him. Instead, Kim grabbed the side closest to her face and pushed off, forcing herself out from beneath the table at the cost of severe mat burn. Kim could feel the skin being peeled off of her shins.

Fighting off the pain with a primal scream, Kim lunged at her attacker with a flurry of blows. He ignored blocking, and instead focused on catching her arms. Once he had her arms restrained and her legs still in too much pain to be effective, he pulled her forward and slammed his head into hers, again and again.

As Kim recoiled from one of the headbutts, he released her arm and drove two fingers into her solar plexus, causing her to gasp out all of the air in her lungs and double over involuntarily. He brought up his knee to meet her chin, and as she fell back, he grabbed Kim by the hair and pulled her back down, slamming her into the hard dance floor before slamming a fist into one of her kidneys.

Paradigm pulled back with a shout as he heard a low metallic whistle, just in time for a glowing blue katana to miss detaching his head from his shoulders. "Leave. Kim. Alone," Ron growled through clenched teeth. He lunged for the man in black, not giving Paradigm any quarter. Their assailant could not find a chance to counterattack, as Ron kept himself out of the taller man's reach and never stopped swinging and stabbing.

Paradigm stumbled over the very same chair that he'd slapped aside before, falling back and throwing out his arms to steady himself. Ron took advantage of this, bringing down the Lotus Blade in a heavy arc.

The masked man bent his thumbs away from his palms, steeling himself for extreme pain. He clamped his palms around the katana, biting back a scream of pain as the weapon bit through his gloves and sank into tender flesh. He let the blade sink almost to his face, building up leverage before shoving back, twisting the katana to one side as he brought up his elbow to Ron's face. Releasing the blade, Paradigm grabbed Ron's sword arm and twisted it before slamming his knee into the blonde's elbow. Ron screamed as bone cracked, and the Lotus Blade dropped to the floor.

Paradigm stalked toward the retreating Stoppable, lashing out with heavy palm strikes to Ron's chest and face, before sweeping the teen's legs out from beneath him in time with a strike that spun Ron a hundred and eighty degrees, slamming him face-first into the floor.

The black-clad man dropped to his knees above Ron and just began pounding on him. No style, no clear target area, no mercy. He slammed his fists into Ron's ribs, kidneys and spleen again and again, before grabbing him around the neck and rolling him over, resuming his whaling on the blonde's head, neck and shoulders. Ron screamed and cursed through the pain, spitting blood from split lips.

Kim wasn't done yet, though. She slammed into their attacker, tackling him to the ground and bringing down a steak knife. He managed to barely stop the knife in time, the serrated blade scratching the red lens over his left eye. Paradigm rolled into a reverse somersault, slamming his knee into the small of Kim's back and upsetting her balance, tossing her off.

"Freeze! Global Justice!" The several dozen GJ agents that Wade had called when he first heard Kim cry out in pain stood on one side of the room, drawing Paradigm's attention away from his quarry. The masked man reached into his jacket as he slowly backed away from Kim, removing the Plexiglas casing from his panic button and pushing it, summoning a hovercraft loaded with synthodrones.

Paradigm held his hands above his head, sighing. "Alright, I'm unarmed, and I'm not gonna hit anybody else. You win this round."

The club's skylight exploded inward as synthodrones landed and attacked the agents, and Paradigm's hovercraft descended. "Global Justice saved your life today, Possible. Remember to thank them," Paradigm called as he took off.

Setting the hovercraft on autopilot, Paradigm finally lost the adrenaline rush, and collapsed from the agony of his injuries.

— — — — —

As GJ medics looked the teens over, Agent Will Du took Kim's statement on the event. All traces of arrogance had left him, replaced with fear and concern. He'd never seen a villain do things like that to a hero. It…it just didn't gel with the unspoken villains' code!

"Do you know who that was?" he asked. Kim shook her head, too busy holding back sobs of pain and concern for Ron to speak. "How about who he was working for?"

Fury overcame concern, and Kim pointed to the piles of goop where once there were synthodrones. "Those are Drakken's toys. He's working for or with Drakken."

Will nodded. "We'll get you both the best medical care around, Miss Possible. Don't worry."

Kim couldn't help but worry, though. Someone wanted her dead, and that didn't seem to be Drakken's style. Someone else was calling the shots; someone who didn't pull his punches.


	5. Return

A/N: This chapter has a bit of plot dump, so I hope it's not too clunky.

**Chapter 5:**

**Return**

Drakken knew that he couldn't show how impressed he was with his hired assassin's efficiency, so he drew himself up into his best Patton impression, complete with a bit of gravel in his voice reminiscent of George C. Scott, and began berating the taller, masked, and altogether scary man.

"You couldn't even defeat them, could you? You ran like a little girl when GJ showed up, and now Kim Possible knows you're after her! She'll be on her guard now, and you've botched the one opportunity for a surprise attack!" He marched right up into Paradigm's personal space. "You're not getting paid a cent for this until Kim Possible is retired, so you'd better prove to me that you're actually useful or you're just going away with a few new scars and nothing else!"

Paradigm stared him down; Drakken could see the man's pupils shrink slightly through the red lenses. "You done? Because I'd like to tell you what I learned last night."

The blue scientist nodded. "You got something of use from that fiasco?"

"Besides shredding the skin on Possible's legs and breaking Stoppable's arm? Yeah, I did. I got to fight her firsthand, see how she adapts to new threats. Ron was also a real surprise, what with the glowing sword and all, but with his sword arm broken, I'll consider his effectiveness significantly reduced. In addition," Drakken could hear the smug grin in Paradigm's voice, "I found out that Possible is being tracked without her knowledge. She never called for backup, but GJ showed up before even the police. I tracked a signal similar to her Kimmunicator to the club, but she didn't have the device on her."

Drakken listened intently, counting off talking points on his fingers. "And that means…what, exactly?"

"It means, good sir, that she's being tracked by her friend without her consent. It means that there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, and I intend to fully exploit it."

— — — — —

Kim and Ron lay beside one another in twin hospital beds, chatting halfheartedly as their pain medication made it hard to get enthusiastic. Kim's legs were bandaged over artificial skin grafts, and Ron's arm was in a sturdy cast.

Kim was just glad that Will had finally left after getting the most detailed witness statements she'd ever heard of, and he insisted on getting them from both her and Ron, even though they'd never been separated the entire night.

Outside their room, Anne Possible watched her daughter make small talk with her boyfriend. She'd taken up the guard post both to protect Kim and to make sure that the spirited girl didn't try getting up and going through the warm-up procedures of her various martial arts, as Kim had already tried this once and ripped through her graft.

Inside the room, Ron finally worked up the resolve to ask the one question that he'd been too nervous to ask, because he feared the answer: "Kim, do you know who attacked us last night?"

Kim sullenly tucked her chin to her chest and shook her head. "Not a clue."

Ron mentally slapped his forehead. That was exactly the answer he hadn't wanted to hear. "Has Wade turned up anything?"

"Last time I checked? Nada. Apparently, this guy's some sort of total newcomer."

Ron absently rubbed his cast. "He doesn't hit like one…"

Kim chuckled mirthlessly. "You got that right. Hits like a freakin' train. If only I'd gotten him a bit higher with that last aerial tackle, I might've gotten him…"

Ron's eyes widened slightly as he realized she meant the move with the knife. He turned to look at her. "K.P, you don't mean you wanted to kill him?"

Kim shook her head rapidly, as if she just now fully realized what she'd been saying. "N-no, Ron, I meant that I wanted to take him down, so we could find out who he is and not have some sort of murderous psycho stalking us."

Ron tried to laugh it off. "Maybe it was just a one-time thing?"

His girlfriend sighed. "I really doubt it. You don't go out in public dressed like that unless you have some real nasty plans, and how'd he know where we were? I don't think he just put on his supervillain costume, decided to go clubbing, and then saw us and tried to take us out."

Anne opened the door. "Am I interrupting?" She's seen the pair's more serious expressions, and wanted to know what was what.

"Not really, mom. We're just wondering who that psycho was."

"Oh, sweetie," Anne said, kneeling between Kim's and Ron's beds, "Global Justice will take care of it. They're an entire international organization; they'll catch him. You focus on getting better, so you can keep the rest of those villains in check, huh?" She gently pet Kim's hair. "Kimmie, Ron, I think you two should try getting some more sleep. We've got plenty of people on staff to watch over you, and… Well, they said not to say it aloud in case one of the villains has a bug in the area, but suffice to say you're in good hands."

As Anne left, Kim turned to her boyfriend. "I think that's a pretty good idea," she yawned. "Goodnight, Ron."

"Night, Kim."

— — — — —

The EEG hummed to life as it showed Shego dreaming again. Her heart rate was slowly rising, as was the general temperature in the room.

— — — — —

Burning. It burned all over. Every inch was on fire, and the heat only intensified. Her blood boiled in her veins. Before that night, it had only happened once: when that comet slammed into her treehouse.

Her siblings had been ecstatic. Her older brother, Hector, had only suffered grievous muscle cramps, and came out of it with unbelievable strength which only added to his ego. The only consolation was that he was so brick-stupid that he could only get a job at Bueno Nacho because of who their father was.

Her younger brother, Mikhail, had freaked as he began shrinking, but after that he began using his power to sneak around and gather people's secrets. It certainly gave him the feeling of importance he'd been craving when he could blackmail half the school. The only reason he didn't was because he saved the secrets for when his silence could be traded for favors.

The babies of the family, twins who were convinced that they were one person with the unique talent to be in two places at once – she didn't even want to ponder over how much William and Wilhelm shared, and if that extended to girlfriends – were happy beyond all reason when they discovered that they could do even more things simultaneously. The power went to their heads least of all, as they only thought of it as an extension of their twin-ness, so they didn't exploit it except for comedy's sake.

But what did she get? Her blood boiled and melted clean through her skin as her entire body mutated. She had to be placed in a military-grade quarantine zone as her eyes and brain felt like they were on fire.

And nobody really seemed to take notice, or care, beyond what a novelty it was. Once it was shown that she'd developed regenerative abilities to compensate for the burning, nobody stopped to think how much it would traumatize a child to watch as her vision faded from her tears melting her eyes.

She had adapted. Her entire physiology had changed, making her fireproof, heat-retardant, and able to process most poisons and sedatives with no ill effect. She'd grown hard from the pain, and cold from the rumors about her. She was a survivor, and every hardship only served to make her stronger. As her determination grew, so did her powers. Mego had likened her to the Hulk more than once: she was green, ornery, and grew stronger the angrier she became.

When her brothers had gotten it into their heads to become superheroes, she'd gone along with it, hoping that being different would finally be a good thing for her. Their names, however, left much to be desired. Mikhail had been the one to suggest that they name themselves after their home city, and the twins came up with the color scheme. Hector had come up with the idea to use the first two letters of their names, but that got swiftly derailed. Mikhail had objected, as his name – Migo – made him sound Spanish or something, so he changed it to Mego. The twins decided to only have one name, Wego. And, of course, she couldn't go around calling herself Pego, because seriously, "Pee-go"? Shego had been her next choice just for ease of use.

Her mind flashed through some of their adventures as Team Go, and all of the good they did for the people of their city. After just a few months, crime had ground to a halt as the vast majority of criminals would be severely beaten, charred, and arrested, and the rest were generally smart enough not to try the odds of getting off scot-free twice.

All good things must come to an end, though, and soon enough various supervillains took Team Go's track record as a challenge. Seemingly overnight, Go City was crawling with costumed nutjobs.

Shego still couldn't believe the "official" reason that she'd turned to villainy. Of all the things they could have invented, from identity crisis to dementia due to a melting brain, the story was simply that she found herself liking evil more than good.

What a crock of crap.

That fateful day came in clear as day: A villain calling himself Harvest had decided to throw the unspoken villains' code out the window, and get down to business. No deathtraps, no paralysis weapons, no blasters set to stun. He came at them with intent to kill, and Shego had nearly lost her family that day. Hector had been shot through the abdomen, with a real gun, and the Wegos rescued him with a wall of copies. Mego got caught in the blast of an exploding car, and the twins were knocked unconscious by falling debris. Then Harvest shot out her kneecaps and planned to make her watch as he killed her siblings.

How he had taunted her, the most volatile member of Team Go, calling her helpless. Nothing she did could stop him before he killed one of her brothers. Harvest never realized how wrong he had been, as his head was burned clean off of his shoulders before he could pull the trigger and silence a cowering Hego.

Shego hadn't expected a parade for her actions, but neither had she anticipated being treated like the villains she helped to fight. Apparently, her killing Harvest had drawn the eye of an organization called Global Justice. Oh, how she would grow to hate them. Those idiots wanted to throw her in prison for murder, even though she'd killed in defense of a helpless innocent! Apparently, being a hero meant being held up to a higher standard than other people, and law functioned differently for heroes and villains. Worse, because of her powers she'd be thrown in a Villain SuperMax prison, where she'd have to live alongside those she'd put away. She couldn't even get extra security detail or solitary confinement! Did these people want her to die?

So, Shego did what any human with a modicum of survival instinct would do: she fled. Turns out, villains had their own guild, something like a union, and she could come under their protection if she turned into a villain herself. Seeing no other alternative, Shego joined the guild, keeping her superhero name as a jab against the hypocrites who wanted to imprison her for protecting her family. Once she'd been inducted, Shego began looking for a villain she could tolerate. She found Drakken, a scientist so lazy that he preferred to steal other people's inventions, and realized the possibilities. Not only was Drakken a sweet man when he wasn't trying to be evil, he was also a puppy dog compared to other villains; his plans were never geared toward hurting people, and he didn't really have any ideas beyond making people bow to him. All in all, things could be much worse.

Drakken betrayed her trust.

He built the Lil' Diablos, destructive robots that could kill. He didn't tell her his plans, and he made her defend his transmission tower while it beamed its signal of death and mayhem across the world.

And then, she was kicked into that tower, and for the second time in her life she felt the burning of her flesh, the boiling of her blood. It was even worse than the first time, because she had something against which she could compare the pain. She relived past traumas even as she burned alive.

Whenever she lost, whenever she was beaten, Shego's resolve increased, and her power along with it. When she closed her eyes, Shego saw green instead of black, and at the moment, the green light behind her eyes was nearly blinding.

— — — — —

Shego's eyes snapped open.


	6. Seethe

**Chapter 6:**

**Seethe**

The restraints were thick. The sheets were specially treated and lead-laced so as to be flame-retardant. Every fiber of her being wanted to leap in every direction at once, ripping and tearing at all of existence to lay the carnage before the sacred altar of her vengeance. She pushed against the heavy manacles that bound her wrists and ankles, but they didn't budge. It was times like these that would make her wish she'd gotten some of Hector's power. Hell, Mikhail's ability would have actually been handy in this situation.

Unfortunately, none of those thoughts went through Shego's mind like they normally would. Nothing existed in her mental view except her white-hot rage and limitless fury. Her brain had rebooted itself after her coma, and she was stuck in Pissed mode. She clenched her hand tight, and her power flared to life, bringing her familiarity and comfort. Familiarity, that is, until the metal of her restraints melted just from being in proximity to her plasma. Liquefied metal dripped onto her wrist, but she felt only mild discomfort instead of the searing pain that any normal human would feel in the seconds before the substance burned clear through their flesh and landed on the floor. A horribly loud alarm klaxon blared from speakers to her right, and she quickly silenced the racket with a well-placed blast.

Shego began to move down the hallway, the paint on the walls melting down to the floor even as the steel paneling began to warp from the heat.

— — — — —

Drakken paled as the alarm sounded. "Shego's…loose," he said in a numb tone of voice.

Paradigm came dashing into the control room from the hangar, where he had been trying unsuccessfully to fiddle with the GPS on the hovercraft he'd claimed for himself. "What's going on?"

Drakken pointed absently to the security screens, as camera after camera showed brief glimpses of Shego before shorting out. "They're melting," he said in that monotone.

Paradigm pushed past Drakken and hit the intercom. "Attention all henchmen! Get the hell out of here, pronto! Leave anything that isn't essential to your continued existence as living things, and evacuate!" He then grabbed Drakken, tucking the blue man under his arm and carrying the doctor to the hovercraft he'd been modifying. Paradigm tossed Drakken into his personal hovercraft and punched in some numbers. "Stay in the hovercraft. It'll take you someplace safe. I'll try to bring her down."

Drakken tried to protest, suddenly coming to what he referred to as his senses, and began climbing out of the hovercraft. Paradigm rolled his eyes and struck the doctor on the back of the neck, knocking him unconscious and shoving him back into the hovercraft. The masked man hit the ignition on the craft and watched it sail out of the hangar.

— — — — —

Drakken woke up surprisingly quickly, turning around until he could get a bead on his lair. He had just enough time to orient himself before the entire thing exploded in a green fireball. The blue man hunched down low in the hovercraft, hoping that it would carry him somewhere safe.

— — — — —

Dr. Betty Director glowered at the satellite feed. What on earth had happened in there? Every single hovercraft in Drakken's hangar came flying out of the lair like a swarm of bats out of hell, and then the thing explodes in a fireball, a green one no less. Did Shego explode? Did that madman experiment on her, only to have it backfire as his schemes tended to do?

Since the explosion, everything had been quiet for nearly a day, but Betty could feel something deep in her gut telling her that bad news was coming.

She slumped back into her chair. "Keep watch over Middleton. If Drakken has a plan, it'll go down there." She rubbed her temples, groaning. "And bring me some ibuprofen!"

— — — — —

Doctor James Timothy Possible was having a good day. He'd made significant advances in the latest experiments to send remote-controlled androids to neighboring planets. Or, to clarify, he'd made significant advances with the rocket and communications systems, while Doctor Vivian Porter had made what might have been even greater advances with the actual robotics systems. The robots would have two backup communications systems in case one or even two got damaged in atmospheric entry.

He walked down the hall humming "Fly Me to the Moon" to himself, twirling the lanyard with his ID badge around his right wrist.

Suddenly, a left arm lashed around him, gripping his right elbow and restraining his upper limbs quite handily. James made to struggle, until he felt something sharp rub gently but menacingly against his throat.

"Tell me, Dr. Possible," said a smooth, masculine voice, "what do you know about black holes?"

— — — — —

Doctor Anne Possible was worried. Her husband should have left work about an hour ago, so he should have been home by now. He might have gotten stuck in traffic, or gotten in an accident. Just as she resolved to call him, she saw his car pull into the driveway…and a tall, masked man in an all-black outfit emerged from the passenger's seat! He gestured at James with a small but gleaming knife, and the Possible patriarch nodded timidly, following the taller man's lead.

"Kim," Anne screamed for her daughter while not once taking her eyes off of her husband.

Kim rushed down the stairs, her legs tightly bandaged over her still-healing skin grafts.

"What's the–" Kim didn't need to ask what the sitch was. The man from the nightclub stood in front of their door, a knife to her father's throat as James unlocked the door.

As the door opened, but before Kim could leap at the man, he spoke. "That's not a good idea, Miss Possible." He took the knife away from James' neck, slipping it back into an inner jacket pocket with a flourish. "That was just for show. In truth, I've placed a nanotick up your father's nasal cavity. Get in my way, and I blow your dad's head wide open."

Kim blinked. "What do you want?"

"Not to fight, I assure you. At the moment, we have a common enemy and I require use of one of your possessions." Paradigm pushed past Anne and swiftly sidestepped Kim, practically dancing backward up the stairs.

Jim and Tim came out of their room, finally having turned off their music and looked outside, noticing that their father was home. Instead of looking down the stairwell and seeing their dad, they instead saw the slim, rapidly-advancing back of a masked stranger. They brothers wisely decided to slip back into their room and pretend like they weren't there.

Paradigm looked around once at the top of the stairs, picking out Kim's room. Said redhead began stalking the man up the stairs, planning to get the nanotick's detonator from him and then murder him.

"Ah, here we go." Paradigm pushed aside Kim's furniture to reveal the secret compartment that housed her battlesuit. He slapped several proximity charges on the door's seam, thankful he'd been mooching them from Drakken.

Rounding the corner to see into her room, Kim saw a detonator in the tall man's hand, and lost it. "You're not killing my dad!" She leapt at him, knocking him off balance, and the pair fell onto her bed. Paradigm pushed the detonator, and Kim screamed in anguish until her brain and ears synched up and realized that the resulting explosion had come from her room.

Paradigm clubbed Kim over the head with a balled-up pillow, trying to be violently gentle. "The tick was a bluff, you moron! I'm not some psycho killer!"

Downstairs, James Possible sneezed, and a balled-up straw wrapper shot out of his nose.

The masked man climbed off of Kim's bed and pried open her secret compartment with his knife, revealing her battlesuit. "I needed to borrow this, and I knew you wouldn't lend it to me."

He wasted no time in slipping it on over his clothing, pushing the button on the collar to make it conform to his body. "I'll bring this back when I'm done with it; I recommend that you all hide in your basement or attic until I do."

With that, Paradigm leapt out of Kim's window, leaving the entire Possible family utterly perplexed.

— — — — —

News choppers circled Middleton's Main Street as cameras tried their best to zoom in on the humanoid figure within the massive column of green light and fire. The brick of old buildings began to melt as she trod through the asphalt soup that her heat created.

Paradigm stood down the street, preemptively regretting this course of action. If any of the Project Hephaestus data regarding Kim's battlesuit was wrong, then he was a dead man. Swallowing his fear, he strode forward into the heat, feeling the liquid asphalt slosh around his ankles.

"Stop this," he shouted to her over the din of her raging plasma.

Shego looked at the man. He was wearing Kimmie's battlesuit, and he was the same masked man she'd seen in the building she'd blown up! That was all it took to set her off; with a furious scream that was more like the roar of a big cat, Shego let out a pulse of power that shook the city for blocks as the street was set alight with green flame. As though she'd been fired out of a cannon, Shego hurtled straight for Paradigm.

He fell back, rolling in the flaming street and hurling her into a building. "I thought you'd have gotten some new moves, Seph," he called to her.

Shego blinked. Who the hell was this guy? She lunged again, straightening up at the last second and launching into a combination of moves that not even Kim had seen; a deadly sequence of blows that would spell doom for anyone caught in the impact…and the masked man was blocking each strike with practiced ease!

Shego screamed in rage, flowing seamlessly into another style and switching her attack, and still he countered every blow! What's worse, he never once struck back; he was only defending and occasionally countering with throws or limb locks. Unconsciously she began to fall into a rhythm, and memories began pushing their way past the wall of her rage.

In a gamble of epic proportions, Shego closed her eyes and began striking out. His arm or leg met hers each time, and the next time she looked at him, he was looking away as well! They had been striking and countering one another without even looking!

Shego's fire died out as she slowly shook away the haze of vengeful rage that had gripped her. "I…I know you, don't I?"

Paradigm nodded, backing into a shadowed alley. "Come, I don't want the cameras to see." He removed his mask.

Shego approached, and gasped.

"So, Seph, you were headed right for Kim Possible. Were you really going to hunt her down and melt her?"

Persephone Elisabeth Kellen could say nothing in reply as she stared at someone she thought she'd left firmly in her past.


	7. Reunion

**Chapter 7:**

**Reunion**

"Why did you come for me?" She stared into his familiar amber eyes, always a source of comfort. "I…I don't deserve it. I never did."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She made no attempt to get away. "And now we see the truth behind it, Seph. No matter what, you're still a good person; you really think that you're not worth it for what you did? Are you really so guilt-ridden that you won't see yourself for the person you are?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Tell me, Persephone, have I ever lied to you?"

Shego shook her head, trying to hold back her fiery tears. "No…"

"And haven't I always been the person you can trust no matter what?"

"Yes, you have…"

He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Then trust me when I tell you that you're worth it. You did the right thing, and I could never hate you for it. I made you a promise, remember?"

Shego pushed him away. "And I broke mine! Why did you chase after a screw-up like me?" Glowing tears rolled down her face, hissing on the cooling asphalt.

He wrapped her in another embrace, her burning tears rolling down his borrowed battlesuit. "I let you go because you needed to find who you were. I knew I could wait for you. When you got hurt, though, I had to take action."

"You're a villain, though! You're too good of a person for that!"

He held her at arms length, so that he could really look at her. His eyes bore into her own, blazing with fury. "And you think you're not? Damn it, Persephone! If they would try to destroy you for what you did to save your family, I won't have anything to do with them!"

"Did you come here to stop me?" Shego asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"No, I came here to bring you back to me," he smiled.

"How did you know I'd come to my senses?"

"You never really broke your promise," he grinned as he kissed her on the forehead. His smile was the last visible part of him as he pulled his mask back on. "Let's get out of here. And before you ask, nobody got hurt. A certain good Samaritan called in with a warning in enough time to evacuate this part of the city."

A hovercraft hurtled out of the sky, and he offered her his arm. "Shall we, milady?"

Shego grinned at him. "How the hell did you learn to do all of this, Trent?"

He shrugged. "Hey, how else was I gonna make sure you weren't getting in over your head all those years?"

— — — — —

Betty Director stared blankly at the satellite feed. One man had wandered into that hellhole, hadn't even started a fight, and the next thing the GJ commander knew, Shego and the masked man had taken off in one of Drakken's hovercrafts.

The one-eyed soldier clenched her hand on the steel of her desk until her knuckles became so white they began to cycle back around to red again. She hammered her intercom. "I want a Capture-or-Kill order issued for this unknown criminal! Distribute images of his costume to every law enforcement and mercenary agency on the goddamn planet! I will not have such a man turn Global Justice into a farce!

"Good lord, entire city blocks leveled, and we couldn't even do anything about it…" Betty suddenly had an epiphany. "Get me the Doctors Possible and Porter!"

— — — — —

Cristobal Senior rolled his eyes as he walked past the pool, watching his son continue to furiously bite his fingernails as he waited for an update on Shego's situation. The broad-chested young man had taken to the thief during their tutoring sessions, and he had been greatly concerned for her after her brush with death.

"Junior," the elderly man called as he strode toward his son, "you will wear out your laptop's battery. Not to mention how much it will cost to retrieve your data if you drop it in the pool again."

"But father," the surprisingly effeminate man replied, "how will I know if she has come to be healed and brought back to her senses?"

"Shego is strong, my son. You must trust her to make it through this. As it stands, we cannot get involved due to Global Justice's interference. I do not wish for our funds to be seized or frozen, again."

A recording of Señor Senior Senior's evil laugh echoed through their palatial island estate. "Ooh," the elder Senior grinned, "someone is contacting us on our evil communications array! Come, Junior! This will rid you of your melancholy!"

"But father, I do not want to–Ow!" Junior's protests fell on deaf ears as his own ear was aggressively twisted. "Alright, alright! I am coming!" He staggered painfully behind his father, his body bent in such a way as to keep his ear as painlessly as possible between his father's fingers.

Cristobal Sr. activated his communicator, and came face-to-face with Paradigm. The tall man stood in a black room, the only light source being two flood lights casting him in a disturbing combination of blinding light and total shadow. "Señores Senior, good day," the masked man in the impeccable business suit greeted them. "My name is Paradigm, and I am here to make a proposition."

Junior was more than slightly intimidated by the tall, masked figure with red lenses over his eyes, but his father was not so easily cowed. "Why should I care about what you have to say, and for that matter, why should I not simply cease this exchange immediately?"

Paradigm nodded. "You have no reason to be interested in me, but you may be swayed by my associate." Shego sidled up to stand beside him.

Junior let out a squeak. "Shego! You are alive and safe?"

"Never better, Junior," she replied with a dark smirk.

"And where is your Doctor Drakken?" the old man asked.

"We're in the middle of renegotiating my contract."

"You are free for hire, then?" Junior inquired with excessive amounts of enthusiasm.

Shego held up a finger. "Not quite. I'm upgrading from Henchman to independent Supervillain in my own right. I think my little stunt in Middleton is statement enough of threat level."

"Our proposition," Paradigm interjected, returning to the topic at-hand, "is the opportunity to be a part of the single greatest feat of villainy ever proposed, both in scope and historical significance. You've always been good to Shego, so you're the first people to whom we've offered this: a storm is coming, to use a tired metaphor, and you must decide if you are with us, or an obstacle to be removed."

The elder Senior smirked. "Tell me more."

— — — — —

Kim was still reeling from the day's events. Her home had been invaded by the same man who had systematically taken her apart just days earlier, and all he had wanted was to "borrow" her battlesuit. Then, an entire section of downtown Middleton was evacuated as Shego somehow melted the bricks.

And now, on top of all that, Will Du was sitting at her dining room table. She could tell that this was only going to get worse the moment he opened his trap.

"Doctors Possible, Global Justice requires your help in designing super-resilient material such as Kim's battlesuit to combat the newest threat. Don't try turning down this request. I am authorized to apprehend you for reckless negligence if you do."


	8. Opiate

A/N: You demanded it, here it is! The next chapter of _Aftershocks_, in new Explod-O-Vision! Enjoy!

**Chapter 8:**

**Opiate**

Jack Hench was not a happy man. A strange man was sitting in his chair, and Shego was lounging on the desk, playing Solitaire on Jack's computer. Hench would have protested, but the stranger was brandishing a massive black pistol roughly the size of Delaware, so Jack thought better of calling for security.

Shego finally looked up, smiling disarmingly at the broad-shouldered executive. "Oh, hey Jack. Have a seat; make yourself at home."

Hench blinked. "I will… After all, it's my office." He shot a glance at the masked man. "And who are you, anyway?"

"Haven't kept up with the news lately?" the man asked playfully. "Well, I may as well not beat around the bush," he said as he holstered his gun and rose from Jack's seat. "I never did like those villains who'd make a big deal out of being cryptic asses." He withdrew a business card, reaching a long arm across the desk (and over Shego's lithe body) to hand it to Hench. The card was black, with nothing but a name in bold, luminescent red font: '**Paradigm**.' The tall man took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of Jack's desk. "I have a business proposal for you, Mr. Hench."

Shego grinned predatorily at Hench as she seemed to flow like water into the chair beside Paradigm. "Trust me, Jack, you want to hear what he has to say. Don't just call for security."

Hench stared at the intruders. "Very well. What did you have in mind?"

As quickly as he'd sat down, Paradigm stood once more. "Ah, mind if I pace?" Receiving permission in the form of a nod, the man in black began to move from side. "I am offering you a position in the single greatest plot ever enacted by a sanctioned supervillain."

Hench quirked an eyebrow. "You're sanctioned? I didn't hear anything."

Shego raised a hand. "We're in the process of accreditation. Until then, we're using my clout in the system, of which there is quite a lot. Plenty of folks owe me favors, after all." Her smile simultaneously brought a heat to his cheeks as ice surged down his spine.

Something about this situation made Hench feel as though he had to get out of there, to run away as fast and as far as he possibly could, and not stop until he couldn't remember what these two looked like. However, his mouth acted against his deepest wishes. "Tell me more."

Paradigm nodded sharply. "This is your one chance to back out, Hench. If you agree to hear my plan, you're in all the way. Attempting to renege after this will result in immediate termination. However, you are being offered the opportunity to completely change the world. What do you say?"

Jack stared at Paradigm, the taller man lowering his head so that the glare vanished from his mask's lenses. The men's eyes met through a filter of maroon. "I repeat: tell me more."

— — — — —

_Bip-bip-bi-dip!_ Kim halfheartedly answered her signature Kimmunicator. "Yeah, Wade?"

The young genius flinched ever so slightly at the heavy bags beneath the redhead's eyes. "Kim, have you been getting any sleep? You don't look so good…"

"Don't sugar-coat it, Wade," Kim scoffed, "I look like crap. My family's been legally kidnapped, and I wasn't allowed to follow them for fear of making them into a flight risk. Now I get to wait for Dr. Director to call me up and summon me to GJ HQ. I think I have every reason to look like processed dookie."

Wade looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation's turn. "Well, ah, where's Ron? Shouldn't he be with you?"

Kim shrugged. "He's off at that ninja school, Yama-whatever. Yeah, he told me about it on our first real date," she elaborated, cutting off Wade's question. "Apparently the Master Sensei – isn't that sort of a double-positive? – smells something fishy over there, and wants Ron for protection against Godzilla or something…" Kim sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm all alone," she whispered, barely audible.

The phone suddenly rang its obnoxious klaxon, causing Kim to yelp and fall off the couch, dropping the Kimmunicator. The little device sprouted tank treads as it followed Kim to the phone.

"Possible residence?" Kim said into the phone. Her expression immediately turned dour. "Yes, Dr. Director. Just let me get my Kimmunicator." Kim blinked at the phone. "Wha-?"

A tube opened up beneath her, sucking Kim into the vast network of GJ tunnels.

— — — — —

Hazy sounds drew Kim into the waking world, and as she opened her eyes she immediately wished she hadn't. The light was blinding, like the lights of an interrogation room in one of those overhyped TV crime dramas.

"Welcome back, Kim," Doctor Betty Director's voice sounded from behind the blinding lights. "You cracked your head on the tube on your way down."

'Yeah, right,' Kim thought. Something was up. "So, why did you want to see me, Dr. Director?"

Betty stepped into view, and the lights died down. So, the lights were indeed just to be jerkish… "You're familiar with Paradigm." It wasn't a question. "He and Shego combined represent the greatest threat to world safety since Drakken's Lil' Diablos. We need your full attention to the situation."

Kim raised an eyebrow. "And you had to bring me here because…?"

Director's tone was curt, forceful, overbearing. "You have been officially deputized as a member of Global Justice." Kim felt her heart leap. She'd been chasing deputy status for more than a year. The privileges would allow her to help so many more people! "However," Kim felt her heart sink as Betty continued, "your record and psych profile did not constitute a full deputizing. Instead, you have been awarded the new rank of Special Deputy, and all of the privileges and requirements thereof."

The redhead did not like the sound of that. "Requirements?"

"You will have to suspend your charitable missions until this threat is neutralized," Director stated matter-of-factly. "In short, you fight who we say, rescue who we say, act when we say. You act in the same capacities as a fully sanctioned GJ agent."

"And if I were to refuse?" Kim sat up in the medical cot, eyeing Dr. Director with the caution of a cornered animal.

"Then we would be forced to declare you a threat to international peace, and we would hunt you in much the same manner that we now hunt Paradigm," Director said casually while picking some dirt from beneath her fingernail.

"Y'know, to an outside observer, it would appear that you're forcing my parents to make weapons for you, and making me BE a weapon for you under pain of death," Kim commented.

"Then it's a good thing we know better, isn't it?" Betty smiled.

— — — — —

As Ron grabbed his suitcase from baggage claim, a small body slammed into his. Yori threw her arms around his waist. "Stoppable-san! Welcome back!"

The blonde boy flushed slightly, gently prying the ninja's arms off of him. "H-hi, Yori. Uh, I guess it's pretty important if Master Sensei sent you to get me."

Yori immediately sobered. "Yes, things are dire indeed. Please follow." She took off at a breakneck pace, and Ron felt exhausted just thinking about chasing her.

Groaning, he slung his suitcase over his shoulder for leverage. "Yori, wait up!"

— — — — —

Maureen Lipsky couldn't stop gushing at her son. He sat in the car's passenger seat, listening to her drone on and on. He couldn't fault her for her enthusiasm, though; after all, he had told her he was coming to stay with her for a while, and Drew couldn't get mad at her for loving him so much, even if she was rather insane.

Finally pausing to take a breath in the middle of her utterly enthralling story about a Jell-o mold, Maureen allowed her brain to catch up to her mouth as they pulled into her subdivision. "Oh, Drewbie! I just remembered why this was especially nice for you to be coming home! I just took Fluffkins out of storage and put him through the dryer like I do every now and then! Oh, and two of your little friends wanted to have a reunion with you, so I invited them over for lunch!"

Drakken swallowed so hard he nearly ingested his larynx as he saw the green Lamborghini in the driveway. Sure enough, Shego emerged from the driver's seat, and Paradigm's long legs unfolded from the passenger's side.

Not seeing anything wrong with the green woman and masked man emerging from a half-million-dollar car, Maureen walked up and hugged Shego's leg. "You'll have to forgive me, sweetie, but I'm getting up there in years, and I can't seem to remember your name."

"Oh, you still look thirty," Shego responded with a rare compliment, making Drakken's fear deepen further. "And my name's Persephone, Mrs. Lipsky."

— — — — —

The air around Yamanouchi had a palpable aura of tension, making Ron feel smothered just walking through the school-village. Unlike other occasions, Yori ushered him straight into Master Sensei's inner sanctum, where he found the old martial artist sitting before a basin of silvery water. Ron was taken aback. Master Sensei was an old man, that was certain, but he had always possessed a youthful vigor. The man who stared up at Ron with haunted eyes looked even older than his long, frayed, stark-white beard could possibly suggest.

"Stoppable-san," he wheezed, "it is good that you have come so swiftly. I felt a sudden and powerful inclination to make use of my divining bowl, and while I wish I had not, I must share my experience with you." The way he put emphasis on the word 'must' made Ron's skin want to crawl off and hide in the shadows.

Ron steeled himself, thinking of what he'd do if Kim was there. He had to prove to her that he wasn't just a burden or distraction; that his actions during the Lil' Diablos incident weren't just a one-time display. "What do I do?"

"Just sit before the bowl, stare into it, and allow your mind to wander. Brace yourself, though. It is…difficult."

The blonde did as he was instructed, and soon became mesmerized as the water seemed to ripple and swirl.

— — — — —

A crumbling skeleton of a city, bombed out and burning to death. Human silhouettes fled in utter terror as a horrific, ragged and amorphous shape surged after them. Overtaking the people one by one, it rent them apart and took them into itself. The being turned to face Ron, and he felt its luminescent, dark-red eyes bore into his very soul. The city continued to burn, the haze of red changing to green as verdant flames consumed his vision.

— — — — —

Ron fell back, overturning the bowl as he collapsed. Deathly pale and covered in icy sweat, he could hear the blood in his ears pounding against his brain, throttling him as he slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
